


Dealing with Despair (Alone)

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Gen, I just need to project my mental health onto fictional characters ya know, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Oma Kokichi-centric, One-Sided Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Panic Attacks, Please do not read if this triggers you omg, Sad Oma Kokichi, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (V3) After the trial takes place in Chapter 4, Kokichi has to cope with the overwhelming situation that he's got himself in, truly realizing that he has nobody left to rely on.
Relationships: One-Sided Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 189





	Dealing with Despair (Alone)

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING pLEaSe go away if you're likely to get triggered by self-harm/panic attacks
> 
> triggering yourself is not welcome in a school environment>:(

"You're all alone, Kokichi. And you always will be."

And snap. There goes the final switch in Kokichi’s head. He’d been planning for this yet, if anything, feeling a little nervous to pull off the whole ‘mastermind’ ruse; turning everyone against him in order to end this bullshit they were up against. It was a small, yet crucial part, something he couldn’t mess up. He’d already let his emotions get the better of him so far, but it’s okay – it was just a lie for all the others knew. 

But them few words coming from Shuichi’s mouth was something that truly stung, surprising even himself. He could’ve sworn he’d managed to supress any of the stronger feelings he’d had towards the detective before the trial.  
As if having the blood of two people on his hands wasn’t enough, Shuichi just had to deal the final blow to Kokichi’s sanity in a single sentence. There was no need to fake the ‘crazy mastermind’ performance. With what he was really feeling, it hardly felt like a lie for once. It was almost vulnerable, in fact.

His chest hurt. His head felt like it was swirling in a chaotic mess trying to process everything that happened and everything that was due to happen. His heart rate was accelerating beyond belief, which wasn’t boring at least, but for once he didn’t care for interesting. Leaving the trial grounds with a ‘flourish’ in his step, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his lithe body slowly began to break down the edges of the façade that he was so desperately clinging onto until he got back to his room.

“Shit, shit, shit…” mumbled Kokichi through gritted teeth as he made his way up the courtyard steps. The overwhelming sense of despair that was chaotically knotting itself into Kokichi's core began to blur his vision. Either that or the tears frantically welling up in his eyes.

The outside world was nothing, his friends were dead. And the one and only person he’d come close to trusting in this hellhole officially had zero empathy left for him. Albeit part of the plan, he was royally alone now.

Each step Kokichi took through the confined gardens only fueled the raging anxiety taking over his body, slowly weakening the control he had over his shaky limbs. A harsh walk turned into a dizzy jog, which became a desperate sprint to get to some sort of safety. After what felt like forever, he crashed into the door, lightheaded. With unsteady breathing he somehow managed to pull the room key out of his pocket and fumble it into its lock. He opened the door, slammed it and locked it behind him.

"S-Saihara...chan," Kokichi struggled to speak. He accidentally fell against the door, hitting his arm, now extremely dizzy due to a lack of oxygen and slid down onto the ground. "H-help m-e, Sai...h-hara-ch-an," he breathlessly mumbled over and over until his whispers became to sound more like desperate pleas. Through his head, all he could do was berate himself for calling for someone who hated his guts.

He sat against the door sobbing, looking smaller than ever with his knees practically glued to his chest. His fingers latched against long strands of purple hair, willing to cling onto anything at this point. Then he felt the dampness stuck to his knees.  
He had faked tears so many times in this game already. Too many times to count. And seeing these tears he made, these all too real tears, made him sob even harder. A part of him was overwhelmed at the fact he was actually displaying emotions. If anyone tried to come in, what would he do then? What about the cameras? He'd shown his pathetic weaknesses. He was vulnerable; frightened too.

Terrified, even.

But fuck it.

Kokichi pushed himself up off the floor and stumbled towards his bed, removing his bulky jacket to reveal short sleeves. Through his blurry vision and shaky fingers, he just about managed to clumsily reach under his pillow for the self-defence knife he'd been harbouring.

Without a second thought, dashed to the sink in his bathroom and dragged the recently-sharpened knife over the pale flesh on his right forearm. All he could really make out was the vague outline of a long, thin slice and pink droplets dripping into the sink. The transfer of fresh pink from porcelain to porcelain was somewhat calming for him to see. One, two, three, four. It stung like hell. But Kokichi didn't care. In fact, it brought him relief to see that there was still something left of him physically, even if he was emotionally empty. The only thing distracting him from the huge weight in his chest was the hot, throbbing pain coursing all along his arms

He didn't wash the knife, there was no point. He simply left it next to the sink. With what was coming, he would probably end up using it again anyway. No matter how much despair he felt, he couldn’t give it up yet. For the sake of everyone, dead or alive. The more he suffered, the less everyone else would have to.

It took a little longer to stop the bleeding than expected, even though he used an entire towel to press up against the wounds. After he properly cleaned himself up, he just stared blankly into the mirror. He could’ve been standing there anywhere from two minutes to an hour, releasing all the degrading thoughts he had towards himself, wondering if sacrificing Miu and Gonta was really the right thing to do. But in the end, he had work to do. He knew he was the only one capable of truly ending this.

He paced back over to his whiteboard, staring at it. Thinking. Running the lid of the marker atop the bandages he’d just applied.  
“Iruma…” He went under his bed, digging around all sorts of items and paper that were of no use to him right now, and pulled out a box of pink hammers and bombs. 

“I guess it’s time I use them, right?”


End file.
